'Eh?' he said.
And again the shrieks sounded shrilly and piercingly from the dark
street outside.
'Come on,' said Robert. 'Come and look after cats while somebody's
being killed outside.' For Robert had an inside feeling that told
him quite plainly WHO it was that was screaming.
'You young rip,' said the policeman, 'I'll settle up with you
bimeby.'
And he rushed out, and the children heard his boots going weightily
along the pavement, and the screams also going along, rather ahead
of the policeman; and both the murder-screams and the policeman's
boots faded away in the remote distance.
Then Robert smacked his knickerbocker loudly with his palm, and
said--
'Good old Phoenix! I should know its golden voice anywhere.'
And then every one understood how cleverly the Phoenix had caught
at what Robert had said about the real work of a policeman being to
look after murderers and thieves, and not after cats, and all
hearts were filled with admiring affection.
'But he'll come back,' said Anthea, mournfully, 'as soon as it
finds the murderer is only a bright vision of a dream, and there
isn't one at all really.'
'No he won't,' said the soft voice of the clever Phoenix, as it
flew in. 'HE DOES NOT KNOW WHERE YOUR HOUSE IS. I heard him own
as much to a fellow mercenary.
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